When History became Fiction
by ScienceofDeduction22
Summary: Sometimes the truth about what really happened has been there the whole time, but sometimes things are lost that should not have been forgotten.


Rumil was a being that was rarely confused. This was not a statement of arrogance or pretension, it was simply a fact. He did not consider himself to be a particularly wise being but he had been on this earth so long that he had experienced most things at least once. This vast amount experience left little to chance. He had watched as the world changed at an ever increasing pace. Through it all he was a consistence presence; simply _there_, watching it all pass him by.

He glanced out of the corner of one eye at the person walking by his side. Thranduil's steps were steady, but not as sure as they could have been. This was part of Rumil's confusion. In the many years since he had found the former elf king on this continent he had never known him to be unsure of anything. Thranduil was a large being who projected an aura of confidence that few failed to sense. He had changed slightly since he had fought the darkness in the forests of Mirkwood thought. He had cut his hair so that it brushed his shoulders and hid his pointed ears. Rumil used a similar technique, but he had not cut his hair any shorter than it had been when he patrolled the forest with his brothers. It was gathered at the base of his neck in a horse tail. Both wore clothes that were unobtrusive and ordinary. They spent their time blending in with their surroundings. They did not come to the city often, both preferred to stay at their small cabin that doubled as their workspace. Together they helped to maintain one of the state protected forests. The land had flourished so since they had started their work that their employers did not mind their perceived eccentricities; namely their rather anti-social behavior.

That was the second thing that was mystifying Rumil. They did have to go into town sometimes, to get food or replacements for broken tools, but in this instance neither of those scenarios applied. They had plenty of food and fall was approaching. The first frost had already come, so the main thing that occupied their time now was preparations for winter. Those preparations did not involve spontaneous visits to the world of Men.

Rumil was so lost in his thoughts that he almost did not notice when Thranduil stopped walking and turned into a building. The blond elf quickly caught up with him. They had entered a small room that was filled with people. There were people of all kinds; young mothers, with small children tight in hand, teenagers laughing with their friends. Though they were not as common there was even a few grandparents there; their hair grey, but with youthful smiles on their faces. All were tightly packed against the walls, their bodies pressed against the cinema memorabilia cases and the dark wood paneling. They were arranged in a few loose queues. These lines extended all the way back to the door, where people pooled around the violet velvet curtains that framed the entry. There was a steady thrum of voices in the air, but almost no distinct words could be heard. In a way it almost looked like common folk lined up to meet their King. The two elves joined the nearest group of people.

"What is going on?" Rumil finally asked "Why have we come here?"

Thranduil did not look at him. Instead he seemed to have focused his attention on the front of the room. Rumil looked around. It seemed that all the other beings here were doing the same thing.

"You remember the fictionalized version of our history that we spoke of before?"

Rumil suppressed a small snort. "Yes," he said "There were many inconsistencies, bordering on slander if you ask me. Especially the battle of Helm's Deep." He shuddered slightly. It had been hard to watch Haldir being killed, even if it was a pale representation of his brother, and it had not happened in real life. He looked around the room.

"But what does that have to do with us, why are we here."

Thranduil was silent for another moment. "I miss him." The words were in a quieter tone than before, and the slightly stiff way Rumil was holding himself vanished. He did not say anything for a moment. In truth he was not really sure how to proceed. It was understandable that the King missed his long absent son; the former Warden missed his brothers with a persistent ache that was a constant in his life. How could he comfort Thranduil? This venture could only end in heartbreak. There was sure to be nothing about this young man that was similar to Legolas. It was merely the name that was the same.

"I do not think that this is a good idea." He finally said. "Come." Reaching out he lightly grasped Thranduil's shirt, but when he turned he stopped short. More people had come while they had been talking. Now there was almost no clear space in the room. Though the glass doors more people could be seen. There was a news crew there, a young anchor and a cameraman. The mechanical hum of the camera could be heard, a base note to the garish hum of voices.

Sighing Rumil turned back, noticing that Thranduil had made to no move to follow him. Together they waited, moving with the crowd and listening to the conversations around them.

"Ohh, I think that Orlando Bloom makes the _perfect_ Legolas, don't you."

Her friend snorted. "You can keep him. I would rather have a scruffy Ranger than a prissy elf."

Rumil suppressed a small smile. While he did not like the slight insult to someone that he knew, for a moment the years seemed to dissolve, and he could hear Gimli and Legolas bickering under the trees of the Golden Wood, not knowing that they were being observed by the Wardens.

He looked over in time to see Thranduil's mouth tighten slightly. The, as he put it 'chattering of youngling' had always annoyed him. One would think that he would have learned some patience after all these years, but that was not the case.

It was actually quite surprising that none of the young women around them had turned to the two beings standing in the crowd. Females still found them attractive, even though they were both older than any women in the world today. Rumil had once joked that Thranduil scared them off with one look, but he had since wondered if there was some truth to his words. Man had always had subconscious instincts. Maybe the ancient beings simply gave off an air that repelled the advances as soon as they started.

The line moved forward, the crowd thinning a little. At the front of the room there was a row of tables with several people behind it. They were talking to members of the crowd as each person stepped forward. The two elves moved with the crowd until they were standing in front of the tables. Thranduil stepped forward.

"This is a mistake" Rumil hissed, but the former King ignored him.

Orlando Bloom looked up. This time there was not a young lady standing in front of him, either too shy to speak, or gushing uncontrollably. This was two men who looked about the same age as Viggo. This was odd. Orlando had met his male fans many times before. Usually they were, well, a little more stereotypical. That might not be the kindest thing to say, but it was true. Though, he had noticed that the number of men that came up to him had dropped dramatically since it had been made known that the actor was straight. The people standing in front of him now did not fit any usual type.

One of them was standing a little in front of the other. He had straight blond hair that brushed his shoulders, and a massive presence that carried over into his physical being as well. The strange thing was that he also was not carrying anything. This was a publicity signing and the young actor had never seen anyone come to a signing, well, without anything to be signed.

The other man was a little slighter, but no shorter. His hair was also blond, but it was pulled back. He looked a little disgruntled, and his mouth was turned down in the slightest frown.

"What can I do for you…?" When Orlando looked at the man directly in front of him another word was unintentionally added to the end of his question. "Sir." The younger actor did not usually address anyone as sir, who did anymore, but for some reason it seemed to fit this person.

The strange man chucked deeply.

"I just have one question."

Orlando nodded, a little confused.

"Do you like the ocean?"

Orlando nodded again. "Yes, I go whenever I can."

The strange man smiled, but the expression did not reach his eyes. In fact, those icy eyes seemed rather sad and weary. They spoke of many years of experiences. Something that was not possible in a man of this age.

"Thank you" he said "That is all." With that he turned and walked out the doors with a dancers light steps. Orlando watched him go and could not stop the shiver that went down his spine. What had just happened? A giggle in front of him brought his eyes back to front.

"Hi, what is your name…?"

Rumil followed Thranduil out into the sunlit street. They stopped just outside the doors and people continued around, ignoring them. Thranduil did not look any happier.

"Did that accomplish what you thought it would?" Rumil asked.

Thranduil shook his head. "It was easier to pretend that they were similar when they were dressed the same."

Rumil shook his head and directed Thranduil down the street. "Come," he said "Let us go to the park." Together they set off. For a few blocks they did not say anything. However when they passed the newsstand Rumil paused. Even after all these years he still liked to be informed about what was going on in the world.

"I will meet you there" said Thranduil, noticing the former Warden's interest in the newspapers. Rumil nodded and continued to read.

It did not take him long. There was fighting, sickness, and much sadness in the world. The papers were always preoccupied with the darkness in the world, especially in these bigger cities. The smaller town papers were a little better. The close communities had more to celebrate. He looked around and his nose wrinkled when he smelled the pollution that permeated everything nowadays. Walking down the street he paused at the cross walk. Cars whizzed by, business men walked by with their cell phones. People had forgotten their world, and moved too fast. Never stopping to look and Rumil hated it. The people that lived in the world had forgotten what it was like to interact with the other living creatures that inhabited the same space. Plants had been cut down, animals put in cages. People did not even interact with each other anymore. They simply talked through their phones, or sent messages that were received instantly. There was no connection, and the longer they went without it, the harder it was for them to fathom. The people were forgetting that in the grand course of time, their lives were mere grains of sand. Insignificant; unless they chose to do something that distinguished them from the rest.

He smiled when he reached the green of the park. Like Thranduil he felt happier under trees. Looking around he finally spotted the other elf. He was sitting on one the benches talking to a young Man. Rumil frowned. What was he thinking? Thranduil had had more deliberate human contact today than in the last two decades. Suddenly the Elven King's face lifted in a small smile. Rumil relaxed slightly. Maybe this mortal could help the elf forget his absent family for a few moments.

Leaning against a large elm he listened for a few moments. They seemed to be talking about different plants, and, what the mortal thought they could say if they could talk.

Both elves smiled, and above their heads the trees whispered their approval.


End file.
